


Saved By An Angel

by Pearl09



Series: Ineffable One-Shots [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), at least I think he is, aziraphale is still an angel, crowley varies, just what you'd expect from cinderella, so the angst isn't very hardcore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl09/pseuds/Pearl09
Summary: Crowley accidentally wound up being the snake familiar to a group of demons. Except he wasn't originally a snake. And he's trapped there, probably forever. When the Walpurgis Night festival comes, a nice witch gives him the opportunity he's been waiting for - that taste of freedom. He certainly never thought the party would lead to falling in love.





	Saved By An Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WyvernQuill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyvernQuill/gifts).

> Thanks for reading!! As a brief explanation, I took this prompt from the gobb discord (Wyvern said it), magical realism and all. So, instead of princes and balls, it's angels and demons and this Walpurgis Night festival. Because of this, I took it a step further and made a small kingdom of fantasy creatures. I hope you enjoy!

The kingdom of Thaelum may seem quaint at first glance, but it holds a lifetime of adventures. In Whitwood, the werewolves form their packs to romp around the forests on the full moon. In Sunholde, the Centaurs have forgone typical architecture, opting for fences and high, leafy awnings. Even Bonsola Reservoir hosts a town of merpeople.

Oxrest is perhaps the most diverse in the kingdom. It hosts a myriad of witches and demons, many of who frequently work together. Yes, it seems to be the most diverse. But it's also the poorest. Many witches live in small cottages, and many demons cram into houses together. 

The largest house here belongs to the family in charge of the town. Beelzebub makes the laws, Dagon keeps the records, Hastur and Ligur enforce the laws. It’s simple, but it works. In their house, tucked away in the corner by the stairs is a large terrarium. It seems empty most of the time, but if you look close enough, or watch long enough, you can see the great black snake idly laying inside. It seems a great place to be, for a snake. The house's inhabitants will say he’s their familiar when asked, so really, it seems he’s living the best he can.

Crowley supposes it would be, if he were a normal snake. He learned the hard way that you should never make a deal with the devil. Crowley used to be a spirit from Mistshade. He grew bored there, feeling his life could be better somewhere else. Maybe he could move to Sunholde and grow plants with the centaurs. Maybe he could go to Clearbreach and spread chaos with the leprechauns. The only problem was, in order to do anything outside of Mistshade, he needed a physical form. No other town accounted for his incorporeal form.

He longed for a way to gain a physical form, so he set about the kingdom to find one. The demons were all too eager to offer him a chance after he stumbled into Oxrest. He was too eager himself, not reading over the fine details beforehand. They asked for him to work for them for a while while they need him in exchange for the body, and thinking it such a small price to pay; he signed on the line. That was a couple of years ago, when they turned him into the snake. Apparently, they never specified what kind of body they’d give him. They also said their need for him was an endless amount of time, and as he can’t violate the contract, he’s been stuck in the house ever since. 

They let him out every now and again as they needed him – to scare people into giving up their taxes, to spook the centaurs who come by so they don’t stay, and, very occasionally, to sneak into another demon’s house for spying or stealing purposes. He couldn’t say no, and he couldn’t leave them. It would break the contract, and breaking the contract would condemn him to Hell.

Even still, Crowley longed for freedom. He longed for the day he could walk around as a human, living the life he wanted to. As much as he had wished for a physical form, he misses a lot of things. The sunsets. The stars. The glisten of the moon off of the water. He doesn’t see much of anything besides the terrarium anymore.

“Crowley!” Hastur yells out, startling him out of his daydream. His grayish-green face appears next to the tank, peering in. Crowley bares his fangs in annoyance. “Now listen here, you snake. We expect a lot of in and out in the house today, in preparation for the Walpurgis Night party. It’s our turn to host, and time is running short to finish preparations. You better be on your best behavior, or else. You hear me?”

Crowley nods before returning to his sulking. It’s not like the snake form has a way for him to communicate other than vague head movements. Seemingly satisfied, Hastur leaves, and Crowley’s mind begins to drift again. That’s another thing he misses – the Walpurgis Night parties. Every year, those from all over the kingdom would congregate in a specific town for the party, and there seemed to be something new at every one of them. Not everyone makes it, of course. Some people need to get work done. Others just aren’t the partying type.

He listens as conversations filter in and out of the entry, the front door opening and closing every few minutes. He closes his eyes to feign sleeping before Dagon accuses him of eavesdropping again. Not like he has anything better to do.

“I heard there’s an angel coming tonight,” Ligur says to an unknown person.

Crowley perks up at that, lifting his head so he can hear better.

“Don’t be ridiculouz,” Beezlebub scoffs.

“It’s true! Heard it from them fairies or whatever, and they can’t lie.”

“Listening in again, are we?” Dagon says, and Crowley’s head whips around to come face to face with the sharp-toothed demon. He somehow manages to make himself look guilty. “I suppose I’ll let you off the hook for this one; hearing an angel is coming is certainly interesting news.” She frowns in thought. “Say, tell you what. If you can behave for the rest of the day, maybe I’ll think about letting you come along. You’d be useful to get rid of the horses at least.”

Crowley nods his head quickly, earning a sharp smile from Dagon.

“We’ll see how everything goes.” She turns to walk away, almost singing out, “Behave!”

He rests his head back on the warm rock again. He usually behaves, but if he does something ever so slightly wrong, the demons call him out on it. It’ll be hard to convince them that he hasn’t done anything wrong. Not only would he be able to see the stars again if they let him out, but he’d be able to meet an actual angel. The angels were always reclusive and hardly ever interacted with the rest of the kingdom. They weren’t on the list for hosting the Walpurgis Night party; they didn’t visit the other towns on occasion – usually, one could go an entire lifetime without hearing from them. A miracle is what he needs right now, and maybe this angel will take pity on him and grant it.

He stays quiet the rest of the day, trying to block out the conversations going on around him. That shred of hope is all he can cling to, now, if he ever wants to get out. When his tongue licks the air, and he can practically smell anger in it, he knows his chance just disappeared.

Dagon appears again, glaring at him. “Have you not moved all day? You lazy bum! How are you going to get around fast enough when we need you if all you do is sit around in the same spot! You’re pathetic. I can’t even believe I thought of letting you leave.”

Crowley curls in on himself, trying to hide. The demons will always find a way to turn something he did against him. He closes his eyes so he can be rid of the sight of a smiling Dagon, but he can still feel her stare.

“Dagon! We need to leave! The party ztartz zoon.”

He listens for the retreating steps and the large thud of the front door closing. It was going to be a long, silent night, so it’s probably best to get some sleep in while he can. As he starts to doze, the front door creaks open again, casting a ray of moonlight across the terrarium.

“Silly demons, not locking the place up before they leave,” someone mutters, and Crowley lifts his head at the familiar voice, watching as the silhouette moves closer to him. Madame Tracy’s smiling face comes into view, now close enough that he can see. “I thought I’d find you stuck here still.”

Crowley’s seen Madame Tracy around before. She works with the demons of the house sometimes, usually asking about other ways to fake her fortune-telling to get more money from visiting creatures. She may be a witch, but no one can predict the future. It’s all a hoax to gain money, and anyone other than a witch or demon is completely unaware of this.

“Oh, those demons, locking you up in here like this. They may have everyone else fooled, but you can’t fool an old silly like me. I know a thing or two about illusions and transformations. And about lying.” She lifts the lid off of the terrarium, digging through her bag as Crowley cautiously sticks his head into the open air and starts to climb out, his long body uncoiling and dropping down to the floor. “I have something for you.”

Crowley lifts his head as high as gravity allows him to, looking up expectantly at Madame Tracy. 

“Oh, where is the blasted thing – ah! I knew I had it in here.” She pulls a chain necklace out of her bag, untangling it. “I think it’s about time you get to another Walpurgis Night party! They’ve locked you up here long enough.” She places the chain over his head and it falls to the ground around his body.

A warm, tingling feeling envelops him and he starts to glow, frozen in place as the tingling grows, morphing the form he currently inhabits.

“I’m afraid it won’t last forever, my magic isn’t that strong,” Madame Tracy says. “I’d make sure you’re out of the party before midnight; the magic will probably wear off by then.”

Crowley lays sprawled across the floor, staring at one of the hands he now has, slowly flexing his fingers. His other hand is slowly rubbing against the wooden floor, feeling the grain and grooves for the first time ever.

“Oh goodness, what are you wearing? That won’t work for a party. Come on, get up, let me get a good look at you.” She helps him off the floor, holding his hands as he stands for the first time, swaying slightly.

“I–” His hand flies to his throat, hearing his voice again after years of only hissing. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Oh hush, there’s no need to worry about repayment. I’m doing this because I want to. Though, it seems my magic didn’t help everything.” She gestures to the mirror across the hall from them. Crowley follows it until he catches his own eye, looking at the short red hair on his head and the black robe falling off of his shoulders. Then he notices his eyes are still serpentine, and his canines are still fanged.

“Hastur definitely looks worse than this,” he says finally. “I could pass as a demon with the fangs.”

“But we’re going to need to hide your eyes, or it will give you away. Now I may be an old witch, but I still think I know a thing or two about fashion. This robe just won’t cut it!”

Crowley looks down at it, wiggling his toes beneath him. “All the spirits wear robes.”

“You’re not a spirit anymore, dearie. You’re going to a witches Walpurgis Night party; I’m not letting you go in that!”

With the help of her magic, Madame Tracy gives Crowley a new makeover, endowing him with a dark, modern wardrobe, complete with skinny jeans and a thin light gray scarf for a pop of color. She then gives him sunglasses to complete the look.

“They’ll hide your eyes. Might make the walk over there treacherous, but the party should have enough light for you to see.”

He takes them and places them on his nose, using the mirror to straighten them out. “How do I look?”

“Ready to party,” she says warmly, clasping her hands together. “Now get going! You only have until midnight.”

Crowley nods and saunters out of the house, trying to figure out how legs work. He supposes he doesn’t need to perfect them for just one night, so he follows his ears, listening to the music grow louder and louder.

The party is just as grand as he remembers – even though the demons and witches are the poorest of the towns, they still pull out all the stops for their parties. The magic they can use probably helps with that. There were all sorts of creatures there, and still more arriving as the party begins. 

“Hey, Crowley!”

He jumps and wheels around, facing the young demon on the edge of the party that spotted him. “I’m not Crowley today, Adam,” he hisses.

“I thought you were always Crowley. Even as that snake.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Adam is one of the youngest demons, but he’s also one of the brightest. Which makes him the scariest. He knew what Crowley really was the minute he saw him, the first time he visited the house. Somehow, the others were able to convince him not to tell anyone, or Crowley’s sure someone would have freed him by now. “I am always Crowley, but I can’t be called Crowley tonight, or people might find out. I need to go by a different name, if I need to share my name at all.”

“Oh, like a nickname!”

“Sure, kid. Like a nickname.”

“What’s your nickname?”

Thinking it over, he decides, “Anthony.”

“Okay Anthony! You should come meet my friend.” Adam takes Crowley by the hand and pulls him through the crowds, weaving past vampires and gnomes and all kinds of other creatures before coming to a stop in front of a witch with thick, curly hair who smiles at Adam.

“Hello, Anathema!” Adam greets, pulling Crowley over. “This is my friend Anthony!”

Crowley rolls his eyes, pulling his hand from Adam’s.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Anathema greets. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, a bit reclusive. Just like to – slither around, you know?” He rubs the back of his neck and looks away, his gaze suddenly resting on an abnormally large group of creatures, so he changes the subject. “What’s going on over there?”

Anathema rolls her eyes. “The angel’s over there. No one will leave him alone. They keep going up to him and introducing themselves. I think he’s hardly moved ever since he arrived.”

“Maybe he needs a knight in shining armor,” Crowley says, tugging at his lapels. “To rescue an angel, what a feat that would be.”

“Good luck getting through the crowds,” she laughs. “I don’t know why he came anyway. The first time we hear from the angels, and he comes to the party the demons set up.”

“Hey, everyone needs to get out and about every now and then,” he says defensively. “Being cooped up in a cage isn’t for everyone. Sometimes – sometimes you just need someone’s help to break your chains.”

Anathema studies him curiously. “Are you alright?” she finally asks.

“Perfectly. Everything’s right as rain over here.”

Adam gives him a push. “Well, get on, then! If you want to talk to the angel, then go for it!”

“Fine,” he sneers. “If it’ll make you happy, I'll show you how to rescue an angel.” He leaves the two behind as he saunters over to the group, which is so thick he can’t even see the angel in the middle. He can hear him now, though, and it’s almost endearing how innocent he seems.

“I’m Roslin. Fairy. Why have the angels not been in contact with us for so long?”

“Oh, hello. I’m afraid I’m not quite sure, you see–”

“The name’s Dreog. I’m a dwarf. How come you’re the only angel here?”

“Oh, well, that answer isn’t quite as straightforward –”

His tone grows more flustered has the questions continue to pile on, and he can’t answer a single one. A chance parting in the crowd reveals the angel’s face to Crowley, and they lock eyes. Crowley’s breath gets caught in the back of his throat, marveling at the deep, ocean blue of his eyes crashing into wisps of white clouds that seem to make up his hair. He doesn’t even notice the angel is moving towards him until he regains his breath, suddenly only a few steps away. His sense of style seems slightly old, but it’s endearing to Crowley as he glances over the cream suit and tartan bowtie. 

“I’m Aziraphale,” he introduces, bowing his head slightly. 

Crowley gulps. “Anthony.” He looks around at all the creatures still shouting names and questions out, but he can’t seem to hear them, entranced by the angel. He regains his composure and offers his arm, saying, “Care for a dance?”

Aziraphale accepts it with a smile, and together they quickly part the crowd, more names and questions falling on deaf ears as they walk to the area sectioned off for dancing. As soon as they arrive, the song changes to a waltz.

“I have to admit, I’ve never really danced before,” Aziraphale says with a nervous laugh.

“You don’t have to know everything, angel,” Crowley says. “Some people take extra steps, but that’s only once they really get into it. Here.” He gently takes Aziraphale’s hands, holding one while leading the other to rest on Crowley’s waist. Then Crowley’s other hand settles on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he pulls him closer, and they both seem to grow slightly pink.

“So, what do we do now?”

“You know, I’ve never danced much either. But I think you just follow the beat. It seems simple enough from watching it; we should get the hang of it fairly quickly.”

He nods. “Shall we, then?”

They step off together, not quite getting it, but what they do get is a constant stream of apologies as Aziraphale seems to always step on Crowley’s foot. Over Aziraphale’s shoulder, Crowley spots Adam, so he wiggles his eyebrows to show that he did achieve his goal. Adam just offers him two encouraging thumbs up.

It takes a while longer for the two to finally stop stepping on each other, but they slowly fall into step, following the rhythm of the song. A few other couples dance around them, slowly fading into the background as Crowley and Aziraphale get lost in each other. Nothing around them seems to matter as they spin around each other. One, two, three, one, two, three. Soon even his subconscious counting fades away, letting him focus all of his attention on Aziraphale. He studies the warm smile, the way his mouth crinkles, how the smile reaches his eyes, and that one small curl falling onto his forehead. When he stares into the starry depths of his blue eyes again, his heart starts to beat quicker. _So this is love_ he thinks to himself.

Then comes the move he was least expecting. Aziraphale turns suddenly, and Crowley falls – or, that’s what he thought at first. He was just bent over backward in a dip, Aziraphale’s hand gripping his back as Crowley hangs onto his neck. His sunglasses slipped up to his forehead, and suddenly, everything comes back into sharp focus. The waltz music is long gone, replaced by something upbeat and hip hop. Most of the people on the dance floor are just jumping up and down. He’s still staring up at Aziraphale, though, their eyes locked together as they huff into the shared space. Their faces are mere inches apart, and it would take only minimal effort to bring them together –

Aziraphale’s lifting him back up before he can make a move, and as soon as Crowley is on his feet again, Aziraphale lets go. The sunglasses slip back down to his nose, giving Crowley an excuse to do something as he readjusts them. Aziraphale is fiddling with his hands nervously.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a half-hearted laugh. “Just got – carried away. Care for a snack, dear?”

Crowley’s not sure how food would react in this form, and he doesn’t really want to find out, but he’s not ready to leave Aziraphale yet, so he gets drinks for both of them and finds an empty table as Aziraphale piles a plate full of desserts. The other creatures have given up on trying to get information out of him, but they’re not above glaring at Crowley for gaining his attention. Crowley just lifts his glass in their direction, smirking at their displeasure. 

Aziraphale comes back and takes the empty seat next to Crowley, slowly starting to eat as they watch the rest of the party around them. There seems to be an awkward tension around them because of whatever that dip was, but Crowley has no idea how to fill it.

Clearing his throat and wiping his face off with his napkin, Aziraphale says, “I just needed to escape.”

This gains Crowley’s attention, who had been watching Adam trying to get some of his other young friends to play pranks on random strangers as Anathema attempted to keep them under control. Turning to look at Aziraphale, he says, “Hmm?”

“I needed to get away from the others. The angels, I mean.” He shakes his head slowly. “It just felt like I was trapped in a cage all of my life. I was told to do certain things, and I had to follow the rules exactly as they are written, and – and it just wasn’t me. I wanted to get out, and explore the world, do something other than the meager options I had there. I wanted to be free to make my own choices. I wanted to collect and feed my interests rather than following the status quo. Now – now that I decided to leave and come here, I don’t think I can go back. I don’t think I _want_ to go back.”

“I know what you mean,” Crowley says softly. “Where you grew up just – wasn’t you, so you yearn for something more, something better.” He sneers and spits, “But then life just spits you back out and gives you something even worse.”

“Come with me,” Aziraphale says suddenly, his hand reaching across the table to rest on Crowley’s. “We can run away together.”

“Run away – together?”

He nods. “If we both want to explore the world and find our own paths, why not do it together? We can help free each other, and maybe together, it won’t feel as – bad.”

Aziraphale looks at him, hopeful, and Crowley’s breathing grows faster. “I – I –”

The old clock tower interrupts him with a louder than normal chime, and a cheer rises through the crowd. Crowley’s head whips around to look at the clock as the second chime rings out menacingly. It’s already midnight.

He pulls his hand away from Aziraphale’s as he stands quickly. “I wasn’t supposed to stay out this late. I – I have to go.” The clock chimes again.

“Wait!” Aziraphale starts, but Crowley’s already running away. Another chime. “Come back!”

Crowley ignores Aziraphale’s protests as another chime shakes him to his core. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but he was distracted by Aziraphale. The next chime rings. He was stupid for letting himself fall for the angel. There was no way they could be together. Crowley was still a snake, and was still bound to that contract. Another chime. He wishes he could have taken Aziraphale’s offer to run away, but now, he probably got Aziraphale’s hopes up for nothing. If he wanted to travel the world, he was going to have to do it alone.

Another chime rings out. Crowley wasn’t counting, but he knows that any second now, the last chime could hit, and he’d be back to a snake.

“Stop running!”

Crowley’s eyes grow wide as he hears Aziraphale’s voice in the distance – he’s trying to chase after Crowley. He looks behind him as the next chime rings out to see how close Aziraphale is. He’s far enough that Crowley should be able to lose him, but he definitely doesn’t want to lead him back to the house, so he turns suddenly to take the long way back.

The next chime rings out. “Was it something I said?”

_No,_ Crowley thinks. _It wasn’t you. It was never you. This is all my fault._

“Please, won’t you at least tell me why you left?”

Crowley steels himself to not turn around as another chime rings out. He can’t go back to Aziraphale, no matter how much he wants to. He can’t let him see that it was a ruse the whole time. It breaks his heart, but there’s no way around it.

The last chime rings out as Crowley turns another sharp corner and falls flat on his face, his sunglasses skidding away on the ground. This time, there is no bright glow or warm tingly sensation. One second, he looks like a person who’s fallen flat on their face, the next, he’s slithering on his belly out of the chain necklace, leaving it behind before Aziraphale can catch him. Changing back into a snake was no pleasure, so of course nothing special happened. He was still just as trapped as he was before, except now, he had had a taste of the freedom he so longed for. He slithers away through the underbrush and back to the house, almost wishing he didn’t take the necklace from Madame Tracy. Now all he wants to do is sulk even more. As he climbs back into the terrarium and knocks the lid closed, he curls back up, pretending he’s asleep when the demons finally come home a few hours later.

~~~

Aziraphale was confused. He was having a wonderful night since he managed to escape the nagging questions thanks to Anthony. He’ll admit he might have gone a little too far with the dip as they were dancing, but Anthony seemed alright at the table afterward as they talked and Aziraphale ate. Then he opened up to Anthony, and Anthony seemed to open up too, and he overstepped by asking him to run away. He hesitated following Anthony when he started to run, but Aziraphale’s feet had a mind of their own, already moving from the table by the time he made the decision. If he could just know why, if he could just know what he did wrong, then he could attempt to at least remain friends with Anthony. He had never really gotten close to anyone before, but there he was, basically rattling his life story off to a stranger. If they were all going to run off like this, maybe it was better to be alone.

He thought he was catching up on Anthony, but as he turns the corner, he stops suddenly, for he is nowhere in sight. The clock grows quiet finally, and Aziraphale looks around for any signs of where Anthony might have gone before noticing two objects on the ground. He ignores the tail of a snake disappearing into the underbrush on the side of the road as he stoops down to pick up the chain necklace and the sunglasses. Turning the latter around in his hand, he decides they are most definitely Anthony’s. They had spent most of the night hiding those beautiful golden eyes, even if they were slitted like a snakes. On the chain, he can sense that it used to be magical, but it seems to have worn off. Putting the two together, he decides the chain belongs to Anthony too and suddenly wonders what kind of magic he had been using. After briefly thinking about it, Aziraphale decides he should try to find Anthony to return the two accessories. Any kind of magic item, even if depleted, is better off in the hands of its owner than being trampled on the road.

Worn out and ruffled, Aziraphale decides not to return to the party. It would still run for a few more hours, but it wouldn’t be the same now that the one source of his delight is gone. A nice witch let him borrow her spare room while he is in town, so he lets himself into the house, being quiet as he goes to the spare in case she is home and asleep. He stows the items in his jacket before he tucks himself in for a few hours of sleep.

In the morning, Aziraphale wakes to the smell of breakfast wafting through the air. He blindly follows his nose to the kitchen, where the house owner has the table set for two.

“Good morning! The food certainly smells scrummy.” Aziraphale greets, taking a seat.

“Oh, morning, dearie. I thought I was going to have to wake you.” Madame Tracy turns around from the stove and places eggs on the plate in front of him. “Partied hard, did you?”

“I had a nice night,” he answers, which was true for the time he spent with Anthony. “Do you mind if I stay in town a little longer?”

“You can stay for as long as you like. Something catch your fancy?” She sits down across from him.

“More like someone,” he admits with a blush.

“Ooh, dearie, why didn’t you start with that! Tell me everything.”

“His name is Anthony. Oh, we had a lovely night, dancing and talking. He practically swept me off of my feet. Well, I guess I did more of that.” He sighs. “But then, I scared him off. I still feel terrible about that. I know, I shouldn’t go after him if he didn’t want to stay with me, but – he left something behind, and I feel I should at least return his things.”

“I had been wondering why you got back in so early last night. I’d offer my help, but this sounds like something you should do on your own.”

“I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Once breakfast is finished, Aziraphale helps clean before he sets out for the town. He goes from door to door, knocking and politely asking whoever answers if they know of any demon named Anthony. Surely, those slitted eyes and fangs he had could only belong to a demon. When they inevitably say no, he tries to describe him instead. He’s too polite for anyone to slam the door in his face: even the demons don’t want to be rude. The witches were more helpful, trying to offer him finding spells or objects – for a fee, of course. He politely declines before moving on to the next house.

No one seems to know who this Anthony is. Not even from his description, if he was using a different name. It seems strange, as if his mysterious knight just appeared for one night.

He still keeps a hold of his hope as he knocks on the door of the large building in the center of the town – he assumes this is what is supposed to be their town hall. He wrings his hands as he waits for an answer, looking around nervously. Just as he is thinking of knocking again, the door swings open. Aziraphale hesitates as he looks into the bright orange eyes of the man who opened the door, and watches as they slowly turn red.

He clears his throat before repeating the question he keeps asking. “Uh, hello. I’m looking for a certain demon, goes by the name Anthony –”

“Haven’t heard of him,” he answers gruffly.

“Oh, well, he has bright red hair, short but styled to stick up, and yellow reptile-esque eyes –”

“Nope.”

Aziraphale turns desperate. “Please, does anyone else live with you? Maybe they would know. I’ve been all over the town in search of him and haven’t had any luck so far.”

He can see the man consider, but he leaves the door open as he turns back inside, so Aziraphale follows him. “Hastur! Dagon! Beelzebub!”

As the other demons of the house gather, Aziraphale's eyes are drawn to the terrarium by the stairs. It’s a peculiar thing, seeming to shelf a hefty stack of books for some reason. The sole inhabitant, a huge snake, stares at him with bright yellow eyes. They look far more intelligent than the average snake, and seem almost familiar, somehow.

“This man’s looking for a bloke named Anthony. Short red hair, yellow reptilian eyes. Sound familiar to anyone?”

Aziraphale’s attention moves away as the other demons tell him they haven’t heard of him. He nods dejectedly. “Thank you for trying. I appreciate your help.”

A large thud catches their attention suddenly, and everyone’s focus turns to the terrarium. They watch as the snake thumps his head on top of the terrarium again, trying to knock the lid loose. 

“What a peculiar snake!” Aziraphale says.

“It’s just our familiar, we got him off of one of the witches. He probably just wants attention.”

“Yes, of course. Well, I should continue my search. Thank you again.”

He goes to leave, but before the door can close completely behind him, he hears one of the demons say, “You know what you’ve done, Crowley. Stop trying to get out. We’re not stupid.”

Shrugging it off, Aziraphale continues through the town, not having any luck. He can’t have imagined Anthony, for the dancing was too real to be imaginary. The feel of his rough hand against his, the gentle press of their bodies together, the weight of his back pressed into his arm in the dip. He had too many memories for it to all be a hallucination.

“Anthony? Yeah, I met him last night.”

Aziraphale lights up. Of course, the witch at the last house in the town is the only one to know. “Can you tell me where I might find him?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. But, I do know someone who might. Why don’t you come in for some tea? You look like you could use the rest.”

“Oh, thank you…”

“Anathema.”

“Anathema. I was beginning to worry I’d never find him.”

After the tea is hot and the two settle down at the table, Anathema starts to explain. “There’s a kid, Adam. He introduced me to Anthony. He knows him somehow. Adam’s due for a visit later, so you’re welcome to stay and wait.”

“That sounds lovely.” He thinks about the items stowed away in his pockets, and deciding Anathema seems trustworthy, he brings it up. “Say, if I had a magical item, would you be able to tell me its use?”

“Sure! Do you have it with you now?”

He pulls the chain out of his pocket and delicately hands it over, watching as Anathema turns it over in examination.

“I’m sure you could tell this part already, but there’s hardly any magic left in it. It seems that it was a fairly large spell if it wore off. Most people enchant necklaces and other jewelry for good luck charms and things like that, so they last for as long as they are intact.”

“What could be the need for a large spell?”

“Shapeshifting,” she decides. “Whoever used this was changing their form temporarily. I can’t give you specifics from it, though.”

“Shapeshifting?” Before Aziraphale can start thinking about how it might connect to Anthony, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hello, Anathema!”

“I’m in the kitchen, Adam!”

“Hello!” Adam greets when he enters and sees Aziraphale. “You’re that angel from last night, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale nods. “Anathema here told me you might be able to help me find someone.”

Adam sits down and rests his elbows on the table, holding his head. “Who is it? A dinosaur? A pirate? A pirate dinosaur?”

“No, no,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m looking for Anthony.” He gestures to the chain Anathema is still holding. “It seems he used some kind of shapeshifting magic last night.”

“Oh. That’s boring. Crowley’s in the big house, with Ligur and Hastur and the rest. Changed his name last night for some reason.”

Aziraphale frowns. He hadn’t asked about Crowley. “Adam, that’s not who–” he stops suddenly as he realizes where he heard that name. That was what the demons had called their snake. He stands quickly, knocking the chair over behind him. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Thank you for the tea.” He runs out, quickly making his way back through the town to the house in question.

All the pieces start to fall into place as his brain races faster than his feet. The snake trying to escape earlier. The intelligence and familiarity in his eyes. The snake tail he saw slithering into the bushes when he stopped to pick up the chain and glasses, where he thought Anthony had just been. The whole reason Anthony even ran away in the first place. It wasn’t because Aziraphale scared him off. It was because the magic was running out.

The door of the house is partially open, so Aziraphale takes it as an excuse to burst through, stopping in the entryway and huffing. He looks around at all of the demon’s alarmed expressions, his gaze softening as he sees Anthony – no, Crowley, look up at him curiously.

“What are you doing back here?”

Aziraphale squares his shoulders and presses his lips into a thin line. “I’m here to rescue the man you’ve trapped away in a snake.”

“Crowley’z not a–”

“I don’t care what he is or what he used to be, but he is certainly not a snake. A snake can’t get a necklace that turns them into a person, because a snake has no other form. They aren’t intelligent enough either to pass as a person if the magic did work. But you’ve gone and trapped him in a form where he can’t even talk, and keep him locked away nonetheless.”

“It was in his contract,” the gray one starts to defend. “We agreed upon–”

“I don’t want to hear the details of your contract. I’m sure whatever it said, you twisted the words into your own foul meanings so that you could keep him like this and use him as you please. Now. You will let him go.”

“Says who? The contract–”

“Can be broken easily. I’m an angel, I get briefings all the time on how wicked and twisted demons are. I know how to counteract anything you can do. Let. Him. Go.”

“But–”

A flash of lightning sparks to life next to Aziraphale, reflecting in his steely blue eyes and making the demons cower. “I am not afraid to smite you. Give me the contract.”

The demons hastily obey, taking the books off of the lid before opening it to let Crowley slither out. They then give Aziraphale the contract before hastily retreating to a different part of the house, afraid that Aziraphale will change his mind about sparing them.

“I was afraid I’d lost you,” Aziraphale says, smiling down at Crowley coiled by his feet. “Good thing I ran into Adam and Anathema, or I might never have found you, dear.” He holds the contract in front of him and tsks. “You used to be a spirit, huh? And all you wanted was a body.” Shaking his head, he says, “Let’s fix that.”

He holds the paper along the top with both hands, focusing his angelic energy into it until he rips the paper, the tearing noise echoing in the quiet hall as the paper splits in half. Crowley starts to glow once more as Aziraphale continues to rip the paper into tiny shreds until the paper disappears from existence. 

Leaning down, he holds a hand out for Crowley. “Here, I'll help you up. I doubt you want to stay on the floor any longer.” Crowley’s fingers reach out to grasp Aziraphale’s wrist, and he shakily stands with the help of Aziraphale. His hair is still the flaming red it had been, but now it’s shoulder-length, framing his face in waves. His eyes are no longer serpentine either, but a bright, glimmering gold. Crowley tries to take a step but stumbles into Aziraphale’s arms.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s quite alright, my dear boy.” Aziraphale smiles down at him warmly. “Now you have the proper body you wanted.”

Crowley stands again on his own, but still holds onto Aziraphale’s arm for support. “Thank you,” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes.

“Run away with me,” Aziraphale asks suddenly, repeating what he had asked last night. “We can go off together, enjoying the company of another adventurous soul.”

“Another soul who couldn’t stand the life they were born into,” he says with a smile. “Together.”

Aziraphale reaches over to push his hair out of his face, but his hand comes to rest on his cheek instead. He pulls Crowley closer, and Crowley comes willingly, but before Aziraphale can press their lips together, he finds himself jerked around as his hand buries into Crowley's hair for grip. Suddenly he's looking up at Crowley, who is smirking as he dips Aziraphale. He giggles before raising his head to finally meet Crowley’s, lips locking together in soft and gentle kisses as if they were made for each other.

~~~

There is a bookstore in the kingdom that was built right where a few towns overlap, as if it is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It’s a nice place to visit if you manage to go there when it’s open. The owner and his husband like to travel, so they frequently take trips. The shop doesn’t really have regular hours because of this. If you do manage to get inside, and you stay long enough, the red-haired one who likes to bask in the sunlight will warn you about the dangers of making a deal with the demons. Then the owner will chuckle and say, “Unless you can be saved by an angel, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want more? Come check my [Tumblr!](https://pearlll09.tumblr.com)


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